False Starts
by Citizenjess
Summary: Ferus reminisces, and Obi Wan tries dejectedly to move on. Set during Jude Watson's Last of the Jedi series, and takes place soon after Episode III. Slash.


This is meant to be a gap-filler of sorts for the first "Last of the Jedi" book. I've been tossing the idea of a post-Episode III Obi-Wan/Ferus 'fic around for a while, and after nitpicking over a number of potential scenes, this just kind of wrote itself. I realize I am possibly the only person in the world who actually gives a damn about Ferus Olin, at least enough to write fanfiction about him repeatedly, but what can I say, I love the guy.

Summary: Ferus reminisces, and Obi-Wan tries dejectedly to move on. Implied Obi-Wan/Anakin; eventual Obi-Wan/Ferus. Special thanks to Diene for letting me bounce a few ideas off of her. Rated R.

* * *

**False Starts**

* * *

Bellassa was cold, far chillier than he was used to, especially after his brief stint on Tatooine. Far into the Outer Rim, it was remote enough to be the perfect hiding spot for a former Jedi and rogue scourge of the Empire. In short, Obi-Wan had faith in Roan's assurance that Ferus would be there.

The cabin he'd been shuffled into was sufficiently warmer; Obi-Wan could still fathom his breath, but the wooden hut was dry and Dona, Ferus' companion of some repute or another, provided him with warm blankets and tutted at him until he reluctantly took his boots off. He would have argued, but judging by her firm jaw and steady gait, he could tell that it would do no good; Dona would have her way regardless. And, he found, sitting barefoot in a wooden chair, wrapped in wool and nursing a large bowl of stew to make it last longer, he didn't mind this nearly as much as he probably should have.

He found himself studying Ferus from across the room absentmindedly. When last he'd seen him, he'd still been a Jedi apprentice; two years older than Anakin, the dark-haired boy had been similarly built and just as competitive, though perhaps not so ruthlessly as Obi-Wan's own apprentice. A sharp pang brought him back to the present: Anakin was dead, at least in every way that counted, Obi-Wan reminded himself.

"Obi-Wan." Ferus' voice was quiet, concerned, and Obi-Wan blinked, realizing that he had been staring. "All right, then?"

"Yes, my apologies," Obi-Wan murmured, studying his icy toes.

Dona kept herself busy in the kitchen area, serving as both a food receptacle as well as a makeshift command center, of sorts, for most of the afternoon and well into the evening. That suited Obi-Wan just fine; he had never been particularly gifted at striking up conversations with ruffian the way Qui-Gon had been, and he had interpreted Dona's stony frowns to mean that she felt much the same way towards him.

Ferus, conversely, seemed to have much to talk about. Older, more mature, and not under the thumb of any particular Master or Code for nearly a decade now, the changes in him were quiet, but myriad. Obi-Wan remembered Ferus Olin as an intelligent, gifted, yet pompous member of the Order. He remembered that Anakin had never liked him very much for just those reasons. And he remembered all too well that he had always felt that Ferus had been too hard on Anakin, too judgmental.

He supposed, if there was any way that Ferus could possibly know the details of that fateful battle on Mustafar and the true identity of the man behind Darth Vader's mask, any way at all without further jeopardizing both their chances to survive, he would have been prepared to eat his words. As it was, he felt relief, for all the wrong reasons.

Most of Ferus' questions had to do with filling in the blanks for himself: who had lived, who had died, and who, like him, were seemingly biding their time. There was one, however, that gave Obi-Wan a jolt up his spine.

"How about Master Siri?" Ferus said, his face arranged in what Obi-Wan could tell was practiced neutrality. Obi-Wan blinked and made a small, sad sound in the back of his throat. "Ah, I see," Ferus nodded. And it was then Obi-Wan realized what Ferus had assumed: that Siri Tachi had died not from blaster fire after helping to thwart an assassin from killing the creator of a small, technological gem during the Clone Wars, but during what he supposed was now considered the Great Jedi Purge that ushered in the rise of the Galactic Empire, headed by the former Chancellor Palpatine.

Both were noble endings, to be certain, and the result was still the same, but the idea that Siri had been just another felled in the head count seemed somehow blasphemous to Obi-Wan. He knew he owed it to her memory to tell her former Padawan the truth.

He cleared his throat, trying to find the words. "There was a mission," he finally began. "Siri and I were charged with keeping a boy who had intercepted some potentially dangerous information on his rather tumultuous home planet safe. We succeeded, and our paths intercepted again many years later. Siri died on that mission," he said quietly, fingers leaving white marks pressed into arms. "She died saving the Senator who had accompanied the Jedi from an air attack."

They sat in silence for several moments, and Obi-Wan could tell that Ferus was grieving for his former Master, whom, even though they had parted ways on his terms, had still led her own life. "Her death," Ferus queried. "It was noble, then?"

Obi-Wan smiled, in a way that seemed to age him twenty more years. "Oh, yes," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Very noble. Just as she would have wanted it."

* * *

Dinner was more of Dona's stew, camped in the sitting area where it was warmest. Obi-Wan chimed in considerably during their discussion of strategy, relieved somewhat for the small lull in Ferus' curiosity about the remains of the Jedi Temple. It was only natural, of course, and were Obi-Wan in his position, he was sure he'd been just as inquisitive. It was just difficult for him; every name brought to mind a new face, a history, a relationship, and as much as Anakin had accused him of being able to shut his emotions off like a sieve, the memories continued to pour forth, each one more painful and heartbreaking than the last. Most of all, of course, those of Anakin, himself.

"You're doing it again." Ferus' voice had lost the stiffened, proper quality that had always somewhat unnerved Obi-Wan when he'd been Siri's apprentice. Ferus was not afraid to show emotion anymore, did not really seem even very reluctant about it, and Obi-Wan found himself envying the younger man for that. The very crux of his failure with Anakin, it seemed, had been his own feelings for his Padawan, his inability to help Anakin temper his. Finding no suitable way to release it, Anakin had ultimately been destroyed. And, Obi-Wan thought, the notion clutching painfully at his heart and squeezing with no small amount of pressure, a piece of him had died that day as well.

He met Ferus' gaze wearily, somehow relieved to see vague amusement in his expression. "What am I guilty of this time, pray tell?" Obi-Wan asked, miming exasperation.

Ferus' smile was mournful, however. "Anakin. You're thinking of him. You get this look on your face when you do," he explained. "This tightness. It shows great sadness." He said little else, his silence giving way to allow Obi-Wan room to speak if he wished. Obi-Wan found that he did.

"When he was destroyed," he began, "Anakin was not the boy you knew when you left the Temple." He said this somewhat defensibly, as if it could justify the deeds Anakin went on to commit as Darth Vader, could justify his heartache. "He grew up considerably. He was strong and bright and one of the Order's most brilliant accessories during the Clone Wars. And he was a good friend," Obi-Wan continued, his gaze no longer on Ferus, but rather inward, focused on memories of a man lost to him now, forever.

Ferus seemed to have sensed this. "You loved him," he stated matter-of-factly, the words neither accusatory or wondrous. Obi-Wan looked up finally, his gaze searing. "It's painful for you to talk about him," Ferus continued repentantly. "My apologies, Master Kenobi. I did not mean to pry."

"It is my own folly," Obi-Wan assured him with a sigh. "Anakin and I were fairly inseparable, both in our daily affairs and when rumors of our gallivanting about the galaxy made waves on the Holonet."

The reminiscing brought the small smile back to Ferus' face. "I enjoyed reading about your exploits," he grinned. "Team Kenobi-Skywalker gave people hope when there wasn't much to be had."

"We were hardly trying to be superheroes," Obi-Wan said modestly, but his heart swelled. He had long become accustomed to accolades about his and Anakin's adventures; he had learned to accept it humbly, with the dignity and grace that belied his many years of Jedi training. And though it saddened him immensely to think about what who he'd lost, he felt it necessary, still, to remember the happier times.

The peculiarity in his expression must have alerted Ferus to his thoughts again. "I'm sorry for your loss, Obi-Wan," the young man told him sincerely. The hand that clasped his shoulder was friendly and warm, and Obi-Wan found himself relieved that, at least with Ferus, he would not have to explain how it was to lose a fellow Jedi, let alone one he'd spent so much of his life with. Ferus already knew.

"Thank you," he murmured gratefully. "Thank you."

* * *

Sleeping together had been sort of accidental. There was only one bed (Dona had been requisitioning the cabin's one sleep couch), and though Obi-Wan was accustomed to resting on any number of hardened surfaces, Ferus had scoffed at him sleeping on the ground when there was more than enough room for them to share the bed.

The arrangement was a bit close for Obi-Wan's tastes, but comfortable enough, and warm. He was relieved that Ferus was polite enough to sleep facing away from him, face-to-face contact being rather unnervingly intimate.

He had had to share a bed with Qui-Gon once or twice. It had not been particularly unpleasant; his late Master had not minded Obi-Wan burrowing next to him for heat, and his soft sleep-wheezing had helped lull his Padawan into slumber himself.

And he had done this with Anakin, as well. It had started out platonically, Obi-Wan granting him permission to bed down with him after the boy had had one of his frequent nightmares. That excuse had lessened over the years, of course, but Anakin had been persistent in his pursuit of his Master, as he was in all things, and had simply kissed the older man as they'd laid together one night, bodies pressed lengthwise, close enough that Obi-Wan could hear Anakin's heart beating alongside his.

Anakin had been in his late teens then, still unseasoned enough in such matters to have been both awkward and eager at once. He had giggled breathlessly in Obi-Wan's ear when his Master's beard had scruffed his own cleanly shaven jaw, and his hands had scrabbled for purchase pretty much anywhere they were allowed to touch. As he matured, so too did his experience, whether only with Obi-Wan, the older man could not be sure. He only knew in the throes of love-making that he had felt heady, powerful -

- and hard. Even just the memory of such events, long repressed and interwoven into the shame and turmoil of what had become of the boy he had loved so deeply had left his body aroused and confused. His face burned with embarrassment; he could only hope that this was not readily apparent to his current, unwitting bed partner.

He shifted onto his stomach, bearing down uncomfortably on his erection. He did not draw out his release when they need arose these days, finding it more efficient to sate himself quickly, without fanfare. He had never been one to bed numerous partners to begin with, and since Anakin's horrific betrayal and the destruction of the universe as Obi-Wan had known it, he had been even less inclined to justify enjoying himself, if only for a few moments at a time.

He finished shifting awkwardly, holding his breath for a few seconds to gauge whether Ferus had noticed. The younger man's deep breathing continued, slow and sure, and Obi-Wan finally breathed a nearly indiscriminate sigh of relief.

It was not indiscriminate enough for Ferus, however. "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?" His voice was sleep-muffled, and Obi-Wan hoped that meant Ferus could be assuaged without really knowing what was going on.

That was before he turned to face him, of course. Obi-Wan would have sworn at his bad luck at pretty much every juncture at this point, but he was too embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "I I didn't mean it's not "

"It's not anything to be ashamed of," Ferus told him softly. And there was that damnable smile again, the one that told Obi-Wan that Ferus was being sincere. Still, he shocked a little to feel the younger man's hand slipping between layers of clothing to grip his aching cock.

"Ferus, no, it's not you don't have to "

Ferus chuckled lightly. "Much as I'd hate to disobey a direct order from an esteemed Jedi Master," he teased, "I think you need this." His hand slid along the flat surface of Obi-Wan's belly. "Relax," he whispered. "Just let yourself have this, Obi-Wan. You don't have to punish yourself so hard."

Hard was exactly what Obi-Wan was, almost whimpering as Ferus' palm curled around his member. In another time, not so long ago but seemingly so far away, he had bucked into Anakin's hand, writhing and gasping as Anakin slowly milked him of his seed. It had felt wonderful, giving into the sensation, almost as much as it had to open his eyes and watch Anakin's face as he was brought off, triumphant, exhilarated. He had thrilled at the power he had over his Master in that simple exchange, and more shamefully now than it had seemed at the time, Obi-Wan had enjoyed temporarily relinquishing control.

He reached over rather suddenly and gripped Ferus' own cock, smiling, relieved to hear his surprised, appreciative groan. He would feel slightly less guilty if he reciprocated, he told himself.

Ferus' voice was tight. "Are you sure?" he panted. "Don't h-have to " but Obi-Wan continued unabated, his fingers already slick with Ferus' pre-come. Obviously, he wasn't the only one who hadn't done this for a while.

A rhythm was established betwixt them, a collaboration of tugging and small grunts and sweat-slicked flesh. Ferus leaned in and kissed Obi-Wan; it was soft and seeking, and if he kept his eyes closed, he found that he could almost pretend that this was another time, another place, another person. Ferus' wide-set shoulders and closely tapered waist, so very much like Anakin's had been, made the deception easy, and as Obi-Wan found his release and sagged against the worn mattress, he found that it made the aftermath even bitterer.

It wasn't Ferus' fault, he told himself. He just wasn't the man Obi-Wan had loved. But then, Anakin wasn't even that man any longer; he supposed expecting anyone else to don the painstakingly missed role was simply a lesson in futility.

When he excused himself to the 'fresher shortly after they had finished, Ferus pretended not to hear the older man's muffled sobs over the soft roar of the shower. And when Obi-Wan came back to bed, curled as far away from him as possible in the opposite direction, Ferus was still polite enough not to say anything.

* * *

He had taken the news that Obi-Wan would not be making the next leg of his journey alongside him about how Obi-Wan had expected. That was to say, Ferus was rather pissed off.

"So you call me out of hiding to recruit me for a mission that would seem all but impossible for two seasoned Jedi, and now you tell me that I'm supposed to go it alone?" Ferus shook his head incredulously. "You've got a really galling sense of humor, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan sighed for the umpteenth time. There was little else he could feel comfortable telling Ferus that wouldn't jeopardize both their missions. Much as he would have liked sharing some of the responsibility of keeping Padme's children safe, he knew that it was his burden alone to bear.

"I know you feel as though I'm keeping some huge secret from you," he began, trying to ignore the way Ferus' crossed arms and slight scowl reminded him of Anakin, when his former apprentice had been displeased by something he was being told. He took a breath and continued.

"I am keeping a secret," he said, and Ferus' eyebrows raised considerably, surprised by his apparent boldness. "A very dangerous one. And the more people who know about it, the more dangerous it will become."

"But if I could just help you " Ferus began. Obi-Wan cut him off with a gently raised hand.

"You already have a mission of your own, Ferus," Obi-Wan reminded him. "An extremely important one. I am confident that you will complete it, too, to the best of your abilities."

"But my best abilities may not be enough," Ferus argued. He gestured at himself brusquely. "I'm an ill-attuned, out of practice Force user, trying to collect the pockets of Jedi from around a galaxy that's run by a Sith. Everyone I meet wants me dead." He frowned severely, appalled to see the older man's mouth upturned at the corners. "What's so funny?"

Obi-Wan chuckled, unable to help himself. "When you put it that way," he chortled, "it really makes the task seem formidable, doesn't it?" He continued laughing and Ferus shook his head.

"You really do have a horrible sense of humor," he complained, but his eyes were sparkling now, as well. It was nice to see someone as ravaged by the pain of war and death as Obi-Wan finding something to be amused by, even if it was sort of at his expense.

They parted ways at a remote docking station, Obi-Wan assuring Ferus that he would find transport back to wherever it was he seemed anxious to hurry. A pang in his chest flared up as Obi-Wan turned to go; he recognized it as a feeling of abandonment. "Wait," he said, placing a hand warmly on Obi-Wan's upper arm. The older man turned and looked at him, and he floundered for suitable parting words. "Will I ever even see you again?" he said helplessly.

Obi-Wan reached out and cupped his cheek. "Our paths will cross again," he assured Ferus confidently. "Once the remaining Jedi have a safe haven to call their own, we will see each other once more."

Ferus nodded, and then pursed his lips in concentration. "And how," he said quietly, "will I know when your mission has been completed?"

Obi-Wan's thoughts turned to a sand-haired child hidden deep within the Tatooine desert, unaware of his destiny. He thought of his former apprentice, how Padme had pleaded with him to see the good in Anakin up until her final breath, and how Ferus' hand now gripping his was strong and calloused from years of holding a lightsaber. It was yet another thing that reminded him not only of Anakin, but of himself, of the Jedi, of everything he had come to know as his reason for living. And suddenly, he knew that as long as they were both able, it would be Ferus' reason, as well.

"Believe me," he said sagely. "When the time is right, you'll know. You'll know."


End file.
